


Realignment (time & company)

by writerdragonfly



Series: realignment verse [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Season/Series 02, Time Travel, could be considered, time traveler's wife au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s inexplicably linked to Captain Cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. February 29th, 1972

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> Yeah, I know, I started another fic. This was supposed to be a one-shot.  
> It is not.
> 
> I've got all my dates set up, and scenes planned.

# February 29th, 1972

_//_ [ _But I guess that's just the way the story goes_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bQGRRolrg0)

[ _You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bQGRRolrg0) _//_

 

It’s dark when he wakes up, his head throbbing. His mouth is dry, and tastes like blood.

 

He doesn’t know where he is, and there’s a heaviness in his chest that he doesn’t like.

 

He struggles to stand, pressing himself against the solid weight of brick in the wall in alley beside him. He stumbles quite a bit as he makes his way towards the street light at the opening of the alley, his feet aching with every move.

 

He doesn’t know where he is, and he has no idea how he’s gotten there.

 

Everything hurts.

 

-x-

 

He doesn’t remember passing out, but one minute he’s almost out of the mouth of the alley and the next he’s flat on his back.

 

There’s a woman’s face a few inches above him, her dark hair haloed by the overhead street light. Her mouth is turned down in a worried frown.

 

She looks a lot like Iris, almost uncannily so. There are differences, but they’re subtle.

 

Barry knows she’s not Iris. He _knows_ Iris, and even if he couldn’t see the little differences, she’s wearing a little metal name tag that reads “Felicia”.

 

He doesn’t know what’s going on.

 

Felicia moves out of his way as he sits up, wipes a splash of mud off his cheek.

 

Her checkered uniform tightens as she stands up, and Barry can see the swell of her stomach. Felicia, whoever she is, is _pregnant_.

 

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t _sound_ like Iris, which only solidifies the idea in Barry’s mind that she’s not.

 

“--’m fine,” Barry manages to slur, and he doesn’t know _why_ his voice sounds like that.

 

Felicia looks around a bit before turning back to him, “Look, I got a place up the block. You wanna rest, I’ll help you down there. I don’t got money for the pay phone to call you help, and I don’t... know if they’d come down ‘ere anyway.”

 

“Yeah,” Barry says as evenly as he can manage, “thank you.”

 

-x-

 

Felicia’s place is a dingy little studio apartment, no door to the bathroom and a hot plate in place of a stove. He doesn’t even see a refrigerator, just a handful of canned goods and a couple apples.

 

It’s definitely not a place for a pregnant woman on her own.

 

“Know it ain’t much. Ma kicked me out when I got pregnant, but I’m tryin’. Baby’s dad lets me stay with him sometimes, usually when ‘e wants sex,” Felicia says as Barry settles himself onto her ratty mattress.

 

Barry wants to tell her that’s not fair to her, but he can’t manage to spit the words out.

 

“Here,” Felicia says to him then, pressing a tin can filled with water into his hand. _She doesn’t even have cups_.

 

He sips at the water gratefully though, staying still when she wipes at his face with a slightly dirty washrag.

 

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” she says softly as he sets the can down.

 

“‘m not sure,” Barry manages with a little less difficulty than before, “--where are we?”

 

Felicia’s eyebrows raise in a way that reminds Barry of Iris something strongly enough that it borders on painful.

 

“Central City.”

 

Barry nods, because even with the unfamiliar landscape, he had a feeling.

 

The nod makes him dizzy, and he’s laying down before he’s really aware of it, and then he’s asleep.

 

-x-

 

It’s light out when he wakes again. He doesn’t see Felicia at first, curled up around herself in the corner by her hot plate.

 

He doesn’t feel rested but he does feel _better_.

 

His clothes must have been changed while he was asleep, because he’s wearing black slacks and a plain white t-shirt. The shirt is stained on the bottom, something vaguely rust colored. He notices the ragged edges of an old towel wrapped around his torso when he checks for damage.

 

It’s seeped a little red, but it’s dried blood at least.

 

He still doesn’t know how he got here, doesn’t know what happened.

 

Felicia looks tiny in the corner, and far younger than Barry initially thought. Somehow he doubts she’s even old enough to _vote_.

 

He forces himself up, nearly knocking the tin can of water over in his haste. He’s more and more hungry the longer he’s awake, but he absolutely _refuses_ to take this girl’s food.

 

Barry places a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. She blinks several times before smiling at him.

 

“You look better,” she admits.

 

“Thank you, for last night. Not many people would’ve--”

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’d... like ta think someone woulda done it for me if I was beat like you.”

 

Barry smiles at her, offers her a hand up, “I’m Barry, by the way.”

 

“Felicia,” she replies as she takes his hand. Her fingers are calloused and worn, but she’s got a surprisingly tight grip.

 

“Do you... know the date?” he asks after a minute, because the longer he’s here the more he’s sure it’s not _his_ Central City.

 

“February 29th. Tuesday.”

 

_Definitely not January._

 

“The year?” he asks, and she looks at him strangely.

 

“1972, just like it’s been all year?” She phrases it as a question somehow.

 

“ _1972_?” Barry blurts, and then shakes his head trying to think up an excuse, “I think I lost some time.”

 

Felicia nods, though Barry doubts she believes him.

 

There’s a hard knock on the door then, startling both of them. Barry jumps away from her, looks toward the door.

 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, and she looks incredibly sad as she speaks, “but you hafta leave. Lewis won’t be happy if he sees you in here.”

 

Barry’s the confused one now, but he nods anyway.

 

He’s halfway out her back window when he pauses, looks down at his watch.

 

It’s analog, an antique he’d gotten from Joe last Christmas.

 

“Here, sell this,” he says, sliding it off and placing it on her window sill, “buy some food for you and the baby.”

 

She nods, and as soon as he’s free, he hears her open the door.

 

“What took you so long, girl?” he hears Lewis Snart ask and then he _knows._

 

He doesn’t stay.

 

-x-

 

He spends his day subtly checking in on the people he cares about that he can locate. His dad is seventeen, and his grandparents are still alive. His mother is eleven, living with her grandmother, a woman who would die in six years. Joe is three.

 

He ends up finding his way back to Felicia’s apartment by early evening, but she’s not home. He wedges an old twenty dollar bill from his wallet underneath her door and leaves.

 

He doesn’t see her again.

 

-x-

 

He runs as fast as he can, but his energy wanes quickly. He passes out in the middle of a park, the whole world going dark.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 29th, 1972: Without You - Harry Nilsson


	2. October 31st, 1986

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been up yesterday, but I fell asleep writing. And then today, after the library got closed for a snow day (yes!) I scrapped most of the original chapter two and rewrote it. This feels way better.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!

# October 31st, 1986

 

 _//_ [ _Don't be unhappy, can't remember_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8)

[ _When I last saw you laughing_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8) _//_

 

Barry’s not aware of being unconscious until he wakes up, groggy and disoriented. It’s the kind of dark outside that resembles just past sunset, making it difficult to see but not impossible.

 

The last thing he remembered was the park he’d gone to after leaving pregnant Felicia’s apartment with the last of his usable money.

 

He’s not in the same park--or rather, the park isn’t the same as when he’d apparently lost consciousness. It’s smaller, several trees from nearby gone entirely. There’s a playground that hadn’t been there before, too.

 

A bell clangs a few minutes later, six almost eerie reverberating chimes that signifies six o’clock. Barry doesn’t have to wonder if it’s six at night or in the morning.

 

There are hordes of children--laughing, screaming, excited children--dressed in all manner of costumes. _Halloween_ , Barry thinks, not Leap Day.

 

His mouth is dry and tastes faintly of blood, but not unbearably so. It’s not like when he’d woken in the alley, more like a _remnant_ of it. He’s still not in his own time, he can tell already. If he couldn’t tell by the costumes or the buildings, he could tell by the way the air tastes. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that he knows there’s a difference between the air before Eobard Thawne’s deliberate explosion and after.

 

He takes stock of himself before he attempts to move any farther, lifts the bottom of Felicia’s inadvertently stolen shirt and pulls off the bandage made of an old towel. It’s tender to the touch, but the gash is healed over now at least. Small mercies, he thinks.

 

When he finally manages to stand fully on his own, he can feel the twisted pang of hunger in his stomach. How long has it been since he last ate _enough_? He can’t even answer himself, the dark space between waking up on the thirty-first of January in 2016 and waking up in a dirty alley in 1972 festers like an infection in his memory.

 

Barry isn’t proud of what he does, but he thinks it’s better than the alternative. He’s not _that hungry_ yet. It’s easy to hide between the mass of children running about, easy to snatch up dropped pieces of candy and stuff the empty wrappers in his pockets afterward.

 

He’s headed vaguely in the direction of Felicia’s apartment, though he has no idea if she’s still alive. He doesn’t know when she died--it’s not as if Snart ever revealed that information to him--but he knows that she must have. A girl that strong and kind wouldn’t have let Lewis Snart raise her child without her.

 

“ _Barry?”_

He freezes where he is, his hand fisted around a Reese’s Peanut Butter cup. He stands back up a few seconds later, looking around for someone familiar.

 

And then he sees him, _Leonard Snart_.

 

He’s not the Leonard Snart he remembers though. No, this one’s still a teenager--a young one at that. Still baby-faced with a full head of dark hair. He’s dressed up as Han Solo, and it fits him down to the way he’s styled his hair.

 

He’s also carrying a baby dressed up vaguely like R2D2 in all ill-fitting costume who Barry assumes is Lisa.

 

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” Snart says, and he’s _smiling at him_.

 

“What? How do you know my name?” Barry asks, and Snart’s smile falls.

 

Barry doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know how he someone ended up in the vicinity of Leonard Snart twice in two mysterious trips in time.

 

He doesn’t _like_ not knowing what’s happening, and somehow every time he’s getting his life on track, something big like this happens. Though this, he thinks, is perhaps the strangest so far.

 

“Is this your first time?” Snart asks, stepping closer.

 

“First time?”

 

“You should have told me that _last time_ ,” Snart admonishes, and Barry has _no_ idea what’s going on.

 

“What last time?” Barry blurts, before it occurs to him that he’s arguing with a teenager.

 

“You really don’t know?” Snart asks, and he looks almost _sad_ at that.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Barry admits.

 

Snart frowns, “You always knew, the other times. If this is your first time, how do you know _me_ then?”

 

“I... We work together, later. You... like helping me out,” Barry says, struggling for a way to put it without saying he turns into a criminal.

 

“Is that what they call it in the future? Just _helping each other out_?”

 

Barry splutters, because the kid is _leering_ when he says it, “no, no, definitely not like that!”

 

Snart frowns, “We’re not together? I really thought we would be.”

 

“ _Why would you think that_?”

 

“You said you’d always find me.”

 

“When did I say that?”

 

“Last time you came to see me... Five years ago.” Snart looks honestly disturbed that Barry doesn’t know that already.

 

“Look, Snart,” Barry tries, but the kid shakes his head.

 

“It’s Len. Don’t... don’t call me _Snart._ You really haven’t been here yet, have you?” Snart-- _Len_ \--says, and he looks a little broken at that.

 

“I’m sorry... I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I’m sorry too,” Len says, and Barry actually thinks he _hates_ that he put that tone in the kid’s voice.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Barry tells him, even though he has no idea if that’s true, “I’m probably... visiting you out of order.”

 

The teen smiles a little at that, but it’s brittle. It hurts to see.

 

“You’re going to be a legend one day,” Barry blurts out then, “and people won’t ever forget you.”

 

“Really?” Len asks, and Barry nods.

 

Len laughs, and it’s so _happy_ that Barry can’t help but smile.

 

And then, the world goes dark again, and Barry knows for sure that it’s not him doing the moving through time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to [Jamie ](http://dragdragdragon.tumblr.com) and [ Kelsey ](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com) for helping me decide on Lisa and Len's costumes respectively.
> 
> October 31st, 1986: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper.


	3. August 25th, 2001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another chapter, yaaaay!  
> Big thank you to Kelsey for being a soundboard for two parts of this. ♥

# August 25th, 2001

_//_ [_How do you give me so much pleasure_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urdlvw0SSEc)

_[And cause me so much pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urdlvw0SSEc)/_ _/_

 

Barry throws up onto the sidewalk under his feet when the world rights itself, a violent stream of color that barely misses his shoes.

 

The sun is beating down on his back as he coughs a few times, ending up on his hands and knees on the unforgiving concrete.

 

His side aches, and his mouth--while no longer dry--tastes like a repository for bile-drenched candy.

 

He stands a few minutes later, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and wipes that in turn on his pant leg.

 

It’s _hot_ , his shirt is stained with blood, and he smells like Halloween vomit. It doesn’t exactly fill him with confidence about being home yet.

 

“You look like _shit_ , kid,” a familiar voice says and Barry turns around to see Len standing behind him in a grey shirt and sinfully tight jeans, his head back to the shaved head he remembers. He’s leaning against a dark blue Corvette in aviator shades, and Barry’s stomach flips for an entirely different reason.

 

“... thanks?” He manages to say, and Len _smirks_ at him

 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” the other man says, walking around to the driver’s side of his car.

 

“ _What?_ You’ve seen _Mean Girls?_ ” Barry asks, stumbling a little as he gets his feet working again.

 

“I’ve never even heard of it. That’s what _you_ said to me last time I saw you, actually. Just get in.”

 

Barry hesitates when he opens the door. It’s a really nice car and Barry smells like he just got done working a shift at a Chuck E. Cheese.

 

“Barry, chill out.” Len says. Barry stifles a laugh and gets in the car.

 

-x-

 

They don’t end up going shopping like Len’s comment had suggested. Instead, Len pulls into the driveway of a nice looking house and turns the car off.

 

“C’mon, Bare, you need a shower,” Len says, getting out of the car. Barry waits a beat, still not quite comfortable with _whatever_ keeps happening, but follows him anyway.

 

“What year is it?” He asks him as the once and future thief unlocks the front door.

 

“It’s August 25th, 2001. Shower’s up the stairs, second door on the right. I’ll bring you a change of clothes and we’ll burn the ones you’re wearing.”

 

Barry nods, because he still has _no clue what’s happening_.

 

He doesn’t even know why he got in the car, not really.

 

-x-

 

When Barry gets out of the shower--an incredibly nice shower, he’d like to take it home with him--and dries off with some of the fluffiest towels he’s ever seen in his life, he finds a stack of clothes on the sink. He dresses quickly, shoving the t-shirt over his head before he even recognizes the design on the front of it.

 

 _Jurassic Park_.

 

By the time he’s dressed, brushed his teeth, and switched his wallet into his new pockets, he feels like he’s been in Len’s bathroom for a century. He cautiously makes his way out, his shoes in hand, and heads down the stairs again.

 

He’s about to turn toward the kitchen--he’s _hungry_ , okay?--when Len’s suddenly in front of him. Barry drops his shoes in surprise, and then makes a meeping sound when Len’s mouth is on his.

 

His lips are surprisingly soft, and Barry’s kissing back, enjoying the feel and taste of his mouth for a few seconds before he realizes what he’s doing.

 

“Wait,” Barry blurts, pushing Len back with both hands, “This is, we don’t _do_ this.”

 

“Didn’t seem that way a second ago, Bar-ry,” the other man says, his voice a little rough.

 

“I told you like two hours ago that we didn’t do this,” Barry says, even though he knows it’s not fair to Len.

 

“You always look the same, you know. I’ve met you nine times that I remember, but you always look the same. It’s... like looking in my memories every time I see you. But... you just came from that time with Lisa, that Halloween, didn’t you?” Len’s got that stare on his face, the one that reminds Barry so much of _Captain Cold_ and nothing like his excited smile as a teenager.

 

“You remember that?”

 

“Barry, I remember _everything_.”

 

Barry looks away, because he just _can’t_ look at him now.

 

How he feels about Leonard Snart has been a confusing mess since the moment the man knew who he was. It’s gotten so much more complicated, even before _this_ thing that’s happening to him.

 

But Leonard Snart doesn’t seem at all confused about Barry, _wants_ him. Barry doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t know if there’s some moment between them that Barry hasn’t experienced yet that leads Len to think it’s reciprocated.

 

He doesn’t know if by the end of this, he’ll want Len as much as Len wants him, like some forgone conclusion.

 

It’s been less than two days as far as Barry can remember, two days since Barry was in 2016 with no intention of messing with time again, and now there’s proof he _does_.

 

“Do you know why this is happening to me?” Barry asks, because he _doesn’t_ know what to do here.

 

“You never said, if you ever knew. You should put on your shoes. So you don’t end up barefoot whenever you leave,” Len says, heading to his front door.

 

“Where are you going?” Barry asks, because as much as he doesn’t know what to do with Leonard Snart, he doesn’t want to be alone.

 

“I need to check on Lisa, and... you need some space. Make yourself a sandwich or something. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

 

The door slams closed behind him, and Barry closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this time's Len and Barry aren't quite done with each other yet. Part II of this day to follow. ♥  
> August 25th, 2001: Fallin - Alicia Keys


	4. August 25th, 2001 Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to [Kelsey ](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com) for helping me get the last few lines out properly, and to [Sam](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com) for a couple in the middle! (Even though though neither of them got to see the rest of the chapter yet!)

# August 25th, 2001, Part II

 

//[ _I'll look and see your face_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwyWmqV_RJc)  
[_You were right there for me_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwyWmqV_RJc)//

 

Len’s kitchen is wide and open, easily room enough for several people to cook together. Barry remembers Felicia’s kitchen--old hot plate, reused tin cans for cups. Ratty towels and no fridge.

 

But this kitchen is meant for someone to cook in, meant for a family.

 

He wonders how much time Len got with Felicia before it was all Lewis Snart all the time, if this was for her. If this was hers.

 

He slips his shoes on before he walks further into it, shuffles his way to the massive refrigerator and opens it. It’s full, colorful bottles and tubs and fresh vegetables everywhere. He doesn’t know where to start, but then he thinks that Len’s suggestion of a sandwich was probably a good idea.

 

He doesn’t know when he’ll be pulled from this time, and starting something on the stove or in the oven seems like a mistake waiting to happen.

 

Barry finds a huge selection of lunch meat and cold cuts, and feels vaguely guilty about the amount he piles onto the bread he finds in the breadbox.

 

He eats as fast as he can, a part of him afraid that Len’s going to walk in any moment and wonder why he’s eating so much, and a part of him afraid he’s going to pop off to the next time before he eats enough.

 

But nothing happens. Barry practically eats his weight in sandwiches, and Len still isn’t back. He cleans up his mess and head back into the living room, sitting down on one of the most comfortable couches he’s ever sat on.

 

He falls asleep with his face pressed into the back of it.

 

-x-

 

Len wakes him up sometime later, shaking his shoulder. Barry doesn’t know how much time had passed between falling asleep and Len waking him, but he feels clearer-headed than before.

 

“You eat?” Len asks him, backing off.

 

“Yeah. Thank you, Len.”

 

Len smiles, just a little.

 

“There's a bed upstairs. If you want to go back to sleep.” A bed sounds nice, heavenly if it’s anything like Len’s couch.

 

“Please don’t leave me alone,” Barry blurts out instead.

 

“Don’t--I won’t go anywhere,” Len says, and his voice is _soft_.

 

A part of him wonders if that piece of Len is still there in 2016, hidden underneath his cold persona.

 

Len doesn't say anything else, but neither does Barry. He just sits in silence, watching.

 

Waiting.

 

Barry doesn't know how long he waits, how long he stays quiet.

 

“How was Lisa?” Barry finally asks, meeting Len’s eyes.

 

“Skinny,” Len starts, and then he pauses as if censoring himself, “She wants to live with me.”

 

“Is he worse on her, with you not there?” Barry asks, and immediately regrets it. Because it's not his business--it's not.

 

“You... know about?” Len asks haltingly, and Barry winces.

 

“I know your father’s not a good man,” Barry admits, “And that he ends up in Iron Heights. But I don't know when.”

 

“Good, that’s... good,” Len replies, and though he’s facing Barry, Barry’s not sure he’s actually seeing him.

 

“I... I’m sorry I’m not the Barry you were waiting for,” he tells him a few minutes later. Len’s eyes immediately meet his again, and Barry feels naked under that gaze.

 

“I can wait.”

 

Barry knows he means it.

 

-x-

 

Barry sleeps in Len’s bed that night, and dreams of dark things. He dreams of doom and destruction and crying, of particle accelerators and singularities, and Leonard Snart’s face when he shot his father.

 

He dreams of the future, and wonders if something he does ( _did_ , his mind supplies) was the source of it all.

 

He wakes up shaking, what feels like every muscle twitching beneath his skin. He wakes up afraid, alone, in stillness.

 

The red numbers on the alarm clock next to Len’s bed read 2:54. In the morning, Barry knows.

 

He slips his shoes back on and quietly heads back to the living room--and with the exception of two groaning steps, he’s successful.

 

Len is awake when he reaches the couch, a mostly empty tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. His head turns to face him a beat later, and all Barry can think is that he looks exhausted.

 

“This house was supposed to be for me and Lisa, you know. My mother, she lived in this rathole apartment in the bad side of Central City for years. But she always made sure I was fed, dressed as best she could. She always use’ta say that my life was gonna get better, that she’d give me a house with a big open kitchen and we’d never... _lack_.”

 

Barry doesn't say anything. Doesn't think Len wants him to. He sits down at the other end of the couch and watches him, watches the alcohol swish against the sides of the glass and crash back down into it.

 

“The house was hers. My grandfather, he said he kept waiting for her to come back but she never did. He found me a couple years ago, said he knew who I was the moment he saw me. I told ‘im I'd only get to know him if he treated Lisa like she was his granddaughter too.”

 

Barry doesn't expect it but at the same time he's not at all surprised when Len throws the glass. It shatters against the wall, and something in the sound reminds Barry of wind chimes.

 

“The house is mine now, the one thing my father can’t _touch_ ,” and there’s such vehemence in Len’s voice that Barry almost flinches, “and I can’t even give it to Lisa because she’s stuck there in that place with him.”

 

“He won’t be able to break her heart forever,” Barry blurts out, because he _can’t_ let Len feel this hopeless, wouldn’t let anyone, “One day, a brave man is going to stop him, and he’ll never touch her again.”

 

They’re both silent for several long minutes before Len speaks again, “Can I ask you one thing, Barry?”

 

_Anything,_ Barry thinks.

 

“You said once, that I’ll be a legend one day.”

 

“That’s not a question?”

 

Len hesitates, and Barry watches him take a deep breath and swallow before he speaks again, “Am I a good person?”

 

But then the world goes dark, and Barry never does get to answer.

 

The last thing he sees is the look in Len’s eyes, the sadness permeating every microexpression on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 25, 2001: There You'll Be - Faith Hill  
> (shhhh, let's pretend I didn't break pattern in order to give this part a song.)


	5. October 31st, 2011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this one was a little difficult to write in the middle.  
> Also, stealth crossover references are <3

# October 31st, 2011

 _//_ [ _I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLQl3WQQoQ0)

[ _But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLQl3WQQoQ0) _//_

 

The jump is easier on his stomach than the last time, but it’s just as disconcerting as ever. He’s dizzy when he stops, when the world reasserts itself.

 

It's dark and quiet, and it doesn’t take much for him to realize he's still in the house.

 

But the house doesn’t have that warm feeling anymore. It feels empty.

 

The couch is covered in a white drop cloth, just barely illuminated by the sliver of moonlight streaming in through the skylight.

 

He walks around the house a bit, looking. The kitchen is virtually bare. A few expired cans in the cupboard, a box of baking soda in the refrigerator. All the appliances are still there, but there's no power to them--not even the fridge.

 

Barry had known, even long before this, that Len never got to take Lisa away from their father. But this almost feels like the ghost that _proves_ it.

 

He sits down on the floor, his back pressed against the couch as he faces the door. He falls asleep there, and he doesn't know how long he sleeps, but it's long enough that his neck and lower back ache from the position.

 

He's not entirely surprised that Len hasn't shown.

 

He doesn't think Len's been here in a long time.

 

He leaves before he checks anything else. He doesn't think it's fair to Len for him to see all his secrets like this. The Len of this time--whatever time it is--didn't give him permission to be here. And Barry's not sure when he is yet.

 

He exerts enough energy to phase through the door, mostly because he doesn't want to leave the house unlocked but partly because he wants to see if he can still manage it.

 

He walks down city streets that are significantly more familiar as he goes, just searching for something-- _someone_ \--he recognizes.

 

 

It’s early morning, just past sunrise. Barry thinks it’s probably around eight or nine, but he has no real way of knowing because he doesn’t have a watch anymore. And even if he had, who’s to say it would remotely be the right time?

 

He knows the date though, after passing enough signs and eventually peering into a fifty-cent newspaper stand to check it.

 

October 31st, 2011.

 

He’s twenty-two right now, out there, somewhere. (Well, he knows _where_ , just doesn’t want to think about it.)

 

Barry sighs to himself, thinks about visiting his dad, and keeps walking.

 

-x-

 

It’s late morning when he stumbles upon the little art gallery. It’s in a part of town he recognizes, just a few blocks away from Picture News. He goes inside because he feels _compelled_ to go inside, and he doesn’t really have any desire to resist.

 

The gallery attendant is tall black man, and Barry can see the hint of a Marvel Falcon t-shirt under his white button down.

 

A beat later, there’s a couple more people in the gallery with him, guns drawn.

 

He thinks about acting, but remembers at the last second what a colossal mistake it would be to reveal himself as the Flash years before he becomes it.

 

Barry will never admit it, but he recognizes the dark shape he turns around to face almost immediately, despite the face mask.

 

 _Len_.

 

“Dude, take whatever you want, just don’t shoot,” Falcon says and Barry just smiles a little at Len.

 

He can tell by the twitch of Len’s mouth the moment he realizes who’s in front of him.

 

“He's not going to shoot. He's going to call this one a lost cause and walk out of here, right?” Barry blurts out, which makes Falcon look at him like he's nuts but makes Len’s lips quirk up into a smile.

 

“And why would I do that?” Len asks, his smile changing into a smirk.

 

“Because you’re running out of time,” Barry retorts. Len’s companions--whoever they are, Barry has no idea--seem entirely mystified if their odd jerky behavior is any indication.

 

“I think _you_ need a time-out.”

 

“And you need to chill out.”

 

“Damn it, Snart, quit flirting with the kid and get to work,” Barry hears one of the others hiss. Len stiffens, and Barry doesn't like the way it makes his face change.

 

“Fork over the keys, Marvel fanboy,” Len says then, his voice hard and even. Barry doesn't like it. It reminds him of Snart from their first few encounters. Guarded and mean and dark.

 

“Okay, okay!” Falcon says, and Barry notices that the guy’s hands are steady despite his voice.

 

He's _in_ on it.

 

Barry wonders how much his presence is fucking their theft up, and a part of him wonders if Len will end up getting arrested _because_ of him.

 

“Good boy,” Len says, still in that creepy tone of his. Barry shivers a little.

 

Len hands the keys over to one of his companions, who runs toward the back with the rest of them as Len keeps his gun trained on Falcon.

 

“Do the cameras pick up sound?” Barry asks Falcon, who blinks at him, confused.

 

“No, they're video only,” he admits.

 

“You're in on it,” Barry says to him, and likes the way the guy’s face falls.

 

“Why would you say--”

 

“He's not going to rat you out, kid,” Len says to Falcon, his face finally relaxing a little. Falcon still looks terrified, probably because he doesn't _believe_ Len.

 

“And how do you know that?!”

 

“Snart and I have a complicated relationship,” Barry says.

 

“It's wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff,” Len replies, smirking.

 

“You're a Whovian?! How did I not--wait, no, what does _that_ even _mean_?!” Falcon rants, and then the rest of the crew comes back out with large rolled-up canvases.

 

“You're coming with us,” Len enunciates obviously--in deliberate view of a camera--his gun pointed at Barry.

 

Barry nods, but he’s not afraid.

 

He follows Len’s direction, even gets inside the unremarkable van despite the rest of Len’s crew’s absolute confusion.

 

Len pulls his mask off after they’ve been barrelling down the road awhile, which makes one of his companions make a screeching sound.

 

“What the hell, Snart, we agreed to not _kill anyone_.”

 

“Len’s not going to kill me,” Barry says, and he’s not sure why he sounds fond at that, “Cool off.”

 

He starts laughing a beat later, because _puns_.

 

“I still don’t know why temperature puns make you hysterical,” Len says baffled.

 

And then there’s the twist in his stomach that’s becoming familiar.

 

“Stop the van!”

 

They narrowly avoid a crash, and then the world goes upside down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 31st, 2011: [Someone Like You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLQl3WQQoQ0) \- Adele


	6. January 28th, 2016

# January 28th, 2016

//[ _I know you know that I made those mistakes maybe once or twice_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10IKRNNfCGU)

[ _And by once or twice I mean maybe a couple of hundred times_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10IKRNNfCGU) _//_

 

He lands hard and flat on his back in the middle of the road, the collision leaving him breathless and in considerable pain. The back of his arms are saturated with road grit; the assorted rough rock, ice melt and glass shards having quickly embedded into his skin as his advanced healing grew new skin over it.

 

He rolls over with more effort than he’d like, each strain of the muscles of his arms repeatedly opening the skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as breaking bones, but it _does_ hurt.

 

Barry throws up on the rumble strips at the edge of the road, hardly managing to keep himself upright as it happens. When he feels the fall coming, he tries to aim himself away from the road and into the ditch. It works and he lands in a cloud of half melted snow and slush.

 

He feels absolutely disgusting, his clothes are quickly getting soaked, and he has absolutely no idea where he is, let alone _when_ he is.

 

Not for the first time, he wishes he had his phone.

 

He closes his eyes, just for a minute...

 

“Are you sure this is where you saw the body fall?” a familiar voice asks, and it’s enough to make him force open his eyes and try to sit up again.

 

“I didn’t see whatever car dropped it, but the body was right there in the left lane!”

 

“... Joe?” Barry asks, blinking a few times as his eyes readjust to the brightness.

 

“Barry?”

 

It _is_ Joe, and apparently he’s in a time in which Joe knows him, so Barry lets himself relax again.

 

Joe talks to whatever man apparently saw him land in the road, and then Joe’s in the ditch helping him up.

 

“That’s not the shirt you were wearing this morning,” Joe says, hefting him the rest of the way upright.

 

“This is going to sound weird,” Barry starts, and Joe cuts him off with a little laugh.

 

“Compared to half of what you’ve said recently?”

 

“When _is_ this morning?”

 

-x-

 

For the entirety of the car ride, Barry is tense. He knows he’s close to when he’d started pinballing around time, but he also knows that he’s still _not_ back where he belongs. January 28th, 2016 belongs to a different Barry, one who hasn’t been stuck under the thumb of _something_ else, being flung from time to time.

 

 _Days_ , he’s _days_ away from being home again.

 

Joe drops him off at the corner, though he protests leaving Barry alone when he looks as bad as he apparently does.

 

“Just, keep an eye out for me on Sunday, okay?” Barry finally says, and the look in Joe’s face tells him he gets it.

 

Barry’s fairly certain that Joe watches him as he heads down the block, but Barry’s done what he can to protect Len’s house.

 

He doesn’t even know _if_ Len will be here now, just that he can’t risk running into himself (he’d _remember_ running into himself, right?) and he doesn’t know where else to go.

 

Maybe it’s stupid--no, it’s really stupid to be coming here, but then again he’s made a lot of stupid choices that ended up being the right ones.

 

He knocks on the door, and his arms twinge with the effort. He really needs to clean the abrasion.

 

“Flash,” Len starts with his trademark smirk, but then he corrects himself when he actually takes in Barry’s appearance, “ _Barry?_ ”

 

“Len,” Barry manages a little half wave before the skin on the back of his right arm breaks open again, blood dripping down with considerably quicker speed than Barry had expected.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Len says, and Barry doesn’t fight being pulled inside.

 

-x-

 

By the time Len has finished picking out gravel, salt, and glass from his arms, and Barry has gotten changed into some of Len’s warm clothes, night has settled in. Len is strangely quiet the entire time, and Barry’s not sure why. He doesn't press, though he wants to.

 

It's just--for whatever reason, Barry has the feeling that it's not just time he's skipping around in. Or perhaps, that it's a _time line_ he's skipping around in. Leonard Snart’s timeline.

 

He doesn't know why, his memory of whatever had occurred to start it is still an empty screen.

 

“The house looks really nice,” Barry says in the continuing silence. Len’s face jerks up to meet his, and there's a hint of quickly masked surprise on his face.

 

“You said there wasn't any point in having a house but never really living.”

 

“When did I say that?”

 

“After Christmas? When you showed up as the Flash in my safe--oh...”

 

“I didn't go,” Barry starts replying before he gets it too.

 

Barry hasn't done that yet. It's not in his past, it's in his future. But he’d let Len think it was the linear Barry, that it was the before Barry. He doesn't know how much time had passed between that day and the last one before. For all he knows, the last one _was that day in 2011._

 

He hates himself, a little, for not telling Len it was him.

 

“I'm sorry,” he says, “for what it matters. I don't know why I didn't tell you. But what you've done with this house? It's amazing, okay?”

 

Len stares at him, just stares. He's so broken and sad, so angry and willful, and Barry has spent days learning sides of him that make the one here make so much more sense.

 

Barry doesn't think, just kisses him.

 

He presses his lips to Len’s, feels the strangled noise Len makes settle warm in his belly, and tastes licorice on his tongue.

 

It’s, Barry can't even explain to himself why he did it, but he sees something in Len’s face when he pulls back that tells him Len gets it anyway.

 

“Len,” Barry starts to say before he feels the edge of the rush of time in his stomach, “I think I could fall in love with the you I keep meeting.”

 

He doesn't know why he says it, and then the world flickers past him again and he never does get to see Len’s reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 28th, 2016: [ Sorry ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10IKRNNfCGU) \- Justin Bieber


	7. January 20th, 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to my numerous cheerleaders on tumblr this evening. You're all amazing!
> 
> I am actually still super nervous about this chapter?

# January 20th, 1998

 _//_ [ _I want to live like this forever_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU)

[ _Until the sky falls down on me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU) _//_

 

The first thing Barry realizes when he opens his eyes is that he's standing barefoot in the middle of an empty house. It doesn't look much like the house he remembers, not the warm, cozy one he'd been in a few moments ago, not the sleek work-in-progress he’d been in twice before.

 

The house is in need of a good dusting, everything except a worn path running from the front door to the kitchen and the downstairs bedroom, covered in a light layer in shades of gray and brown.

 

“Who’s there?” a man’s voice asks, and Barry jumps at the sound. He turns to see an old black man walking unsteadily out of the bedroom, leaning over on a cane that looks a few feet away from breaking.

 

“I’m sorry sir,” Barry starts, but the old man just shakes his head at him.

 

“Now I know you ain’t no thief,” the man says, pointing at his feet, “no one crazy enough to break into my home with bare feet.”

 

“Are... are you Felicia’s dad?” Barry asks hesitantly.

 

“You’ve heard from her?” the man sounds so excited, and it makes something in Barry _ache_.

 

“I don’t... I don’t know if she’s still alive. But, her baby, your grandson--”

 

“It was a boy? She had a little boy?”

 

“His name is Leonard,” Barry tells him, and the old man looks like he’s about to cry.

 

“She named him after me?” the man asks, and then he’s sobbing a little.

 

-x-

 

Barry doesn’t have much information to give the man about where Len is. He just doesn’t _know_ where Len might be. When Barry leaves with an ill-fitting pair of boots, he still doesn’t know where to find him.

 

He just thinks that maybe, or perhaps more accurately, knows that he’ll end up finding him. It’s happened too much for Barry to believe otherwise.

 

He walks for a while, occasionally hissing in pain as his feet blister and heal.

 

Newspapers tell him the date. January 20th, 1998. He doesn’t have any specific memories about that winter, outside Christmas. But his mom is still alive here, so close to the age she was when she died. It hurts a little, but it’s far easier to handle than the hurt of before.

 

Barry ends up walking by his childhood home, smiling at the half-melted snowman in the front yard.

 

But he doesn’t stay, doesn’t linger.

 

This isn’t his life anymore, isn’t his time.

 

He keeps walking, and he’s not at all surprised when he nearly literally walks into Len on a sidewalk downtown.

 

Len’s eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hands are fisted at his sides.

 

“Barry,” Len says, and he sounds _off_ , “Did you know?”

 

“Know what? Are you... okay?”

 

“About Lisa, Barry. Did you _know_?”

 

“What about your sister?”

 

“My sis-- _that_! Did you know she’s not? That Lisa isn't my sister?” Len yells at him. Barry backs up a step, which is apparently enough to make Len deflate.

 

He doesn't know what Len is talking about, but he's almost afraid to find out.

 

“Sorry,” he says, his voice rough, “I thought... you probably knew.”

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Barry admits, and Len seems to finally relax at that.

 

“Lisa's mother was... a prostitute. My father, when I was... He made... It doesn't matter,” Len says, and Barry feels the horror of what Len’s implied twist in his chest.

 

Lisa’s not his sister, she’s his _daughter_.

 

 _“_ You don't have to talk about it,” Barry blurts out, “We should go and do something. Paintball, does that exist yet? Or, I don't know, ice skating. When was the last time you did something _fun_?”

 

“You want to... what are you, twelve?” Len laughs, and Barry likes the way it feels to hear it.

 

“I’m twenty-six actually,” Barry replies, grinning wildly at him.

 

“Paintball, you said? Is there anywhere even open this time of year?”

 

“I have no idea,” Barry admits, and he knows he’s still grinning but he can’t seem to help it, “But we could always make our own course.”

 

-x-

 

Len spends an extravagant amount of money on paintball gear--including a pair of boots that actually fit Barry’s feet--and they trudge through the snow and muck heading into the woods together.

 

The woods are familiar to Barry, the same space they’d shared a few months before (and more than a decade _later_.) It’s... _odd_ , he thinks, that the place has meaning to him _now_ , years before it happens, and will have meaning to Len later, years after _this_.

 

Barry is careful not to use his meta-abilities, only slipping up once after tripping over a downed branch, and he’s fairly certain Len hadn’t noticed.

 

Len’s not a bad shot, but Barry is better. Which, is almost unbelievable to him considering Len’s ability with one in the future. He supposes Len could be taking it easy on him, but even if he’s not they’re having _fun_.

 

They run out of paintballs fairly quickly, devolving into throwing color-stained snowballs at each other instead. And it’s _fun_ , really the most fun Barry’s had in a long time.

 

No one’s life is in danger here, now. No one needs saving, there are no other metas. There’s nothing at the back of his head that’s screaming that he should be doing something more, that he needs to figure out who the bad guy is, stop them.

 

He doesn’t know why or how this whole connection started, just that for the first time he’s truly and utterly glad for it. Maybe this is why some version of Len thinks they’re _something_. Because this thing, this connection, this pull? It _is_ something. It’s given Barry something he didn’t know he needed. And Len...

 

He told Snart there was good in him once. He’d meant it then, but somehow it means something _else_ now.

 

Something more, because _Len_ is something more than a criminal who has the capability to do more. A lot more.

 

Then there’s a handful of cold, wet snow down the back of his shirt, and Barry is too busy spluttering to think about it any more.

 

-x-

 

By evening their faces are wind-burned and red, slush and water has begun to soak into their boots, and Barry feels ravenous.

 

They end up at a little diner with familiar looking waitress uniforms and greasy burgers, and Barry pretends not to notice when Len leaves a fifty dollar tip on the table.

 

The last thing Barry thinks during their short walk together towards the car afterward, is that for the first time, _he really doesn’t want to go._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January 20th, 1998: [Truly Madly Deeply ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQnAxOQxQIU)\- Savage Garden.
> 
> (By the way, totally love Savage Garden. <3)
> 
> Feedback would totally be appreciated!


	8. April 5th, 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for the long wait. I don't have any excuses.
> 
> Feedback gleefully welcomed. I wrote this over the last four (wow) months (and not all at once!) so there might be some disconnect I haven't picked up on.
> 
> HUGE HUGE thank you to [ Sam ](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com) for the FANTASTIC art at the end of this chapter. Clicking the picture should bring you to a rebloggable version on her tumblr.

#  ~~~~April 5th, 2008

_//_ [ _I'll be wearing these scars_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vzo-EL_62fQ)

[ _For everyone to see_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vzo-EL_62fQ) _//_

 

Barry closes his eyes in 1998 and opens them in a different time. There’s an unfamiliar car in front of him, and it takes him by surprise somehow. (It’s not Len’s car. It’s too new, the wrong color, different.)

 

The jumps are taking less and less out of him, physically. He’s getting used to the vertigo and the nausea and the sharp pain in his chest.

 

But he’s beginning to think that maybe, maybe they’re worse on him mentally the more it happens.

 

A few minutes ago, he was sitting across a diner table from Leonard Snart and Barry was _happy_.

 

He didn’t have to worry about anything. There wasn’t anything he could do in 1998 that could have made the situation with Zoom easier, or that could have stopped the entire explosion.

 

(And he doesn’t like thinking about that, thinking about what might have happened if he’d _tried_ to change things, save that many people.)

 

He didn’t want to _leave_. He didn’t want to leave what probably counted as a date with Len, didn’t want to move from his side. Barry doesn’t want to give up whatever the hell this thing is, and the worst part, he thinks, is that a few days ago he didn’t know he wanted it. (He _didn’t_ want it a few days ago, his mind supplies.)

 

He doesn’t know what to do, where to go. He wants to go home and he wanted to stay, and he just doesn’t know how to deal with the barrage of emotion and want and need.

 

He feels like he’s torn between duty and desire, and for the first time in a long time it’s an easy distinction to make and a terrifyingly difficult choice in turn.

 

Barry wishes he had some sort of guide to tell him what he was supposed to do. He wishes he had a convenient walkthrough for this, a guidebook.

 

But there isn’t anyone there to tell him where to go, what to do, when to do it. There’s nothing to show him the path of least resistance or the path that would be the hardest but ultimately the one worth going down.

 

Barry is on his own, and he feels it so unbelievably much right now.

 

“Hey, dumbass, back away from my car, yeah?” A woman’s voice interrupts him, and Barry realizes with a start that he’s still standing there, on the curb, his hand outstretched where he’d been about to open Len’s passenger door.

 

“Sorry, sorr--” Barry starts, breaking off when he sees who had spoken.

 

Lisa Snart.

 

She’s young, softer somehow. An adult, surely, but Barry’s never been that good at guessing ages to know for sure.

 

“Oh, well, dumbass was definitely the right choice of nickname, wasn’t it? You’re the same dumbass who my brother keeps breaking his heart over, if memory serves. And you still look the fucking same, don’t you?”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You look like someone just ran over your fucking puppy and then backed over it again. I am not a relationship counselor.”

 

“I didn’t want to leave, Lisa,” Barry blurted, and he saw the way her eyes flickered, just for a minute.

 

“What the fuck ever, get in the car.”

 

Barry does.

 

-x-

 

Lisa doesn’t talk the entire drive. Barry feels on the edge, feels tense, the entire time. He doesn’t know when the jump will happen, hopes he’ll see Len first but doesn’t really know if it will happen at all. He thinks it has to, because in all these things he’s seen Len has _always_ been there.

 

He’s always... been there.

 

“Look, we’re here. Len’s inside.” Lisa is glaring at him when he looks away from the bar and her direction instead.

 

“If you break his heart, _I will destroy you._ Now, get the hell out of my car and tell Len he owes me one.”

 

“I wouldn’t--I couldn’t,” Barry blurts out, the words sounding strung out and strangled, even to him, “I _can’t_.”

Her face softens, just a little.

 

“My brother has been in love with you for a long time, kid. His entire fucking life. He doesn’t even _look_ at other people anymore. Every time you _leave,_ it breaks his heart. So tell me, _can you stay?_ ”

 

“I want to, Lisa,” Barry says, and she shakes her head.

 

“I can promise you that one day, I _will_ get to stay. I’ll find out how.”

 

“ _You_ _better_ ,” Lisa says, and then she unlocks the car doors, “Now get the fuck out of my car.”

 

-x-

 

When he goes inside Saints & Sinners, he takes note of the unchanging decor. And then he sees Len, at the bar talking to a pretty woman in a tight dress and fuck-me boots.

 

Len sits down his beer when he notices him, brushing the woman off with a wave of his hand and making his way in Barry’s direction. Before Len can reach him, Barry jerks his head toward the bathroom and escapes that way himself.

 

It doesn’t take Len long to get there, and Barry hardly has time to lock the door before he’s got his arms around the man, hugging him tightly against himself. He doesn’t even think about it, just holds as tight as he can, presses his face into Len’s neck.

 

Because he doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t know how to stay.

 

And well, no one’s ever wanted him like Len does, have they?

 

It wasn’t like he was always picked last in school, like he couldn’t make friends and keep them, like he didn’t have girlfriends in the past, (or _boyfriends)_. He wasn’t popular but he wasn’t at the bottom rung, Iris had always been there, and eventually, Cisco and Caitlin too.

 

He hadn’t been picked last but he’d never been _first,_ not like this.

 

Maybe it should be creepy, the way Len apparently wanted him, if Lisa wasn’t lying.

 

But, Barry had spent a long time trying to figure out why he wasn’t enough, and... all Len wanted was for him to stay.

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Barry whispers into the curve of Len’s neck and shoulders, and then he backs away just far enough to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

And then he’s gone, and never gets to hear what Len would have said.

 

[ ](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com/post/146085378151/realignment-by-writerdragonfly-hes-inexplicably)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 5th, 2008: Bleeding Love - Leona Lewis
> 
> Also known as the chapter where Len _doesn't actually speak._


	9. April 9th, 1987

# April 9th, 1987

 _//_ [ _I'm so glad I found you, I'm not gonna lose you_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bjfcIF2qt8)

[ _Whatever it takes I will stay here with you_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bjfcIF2qt8) _//_

 

The bathroom of Saints and Sinners is thick with cigarette smoke and the skunk-smell of pot. It’s hard to breathe for a moment, and when it finally clears up, Barry realizes he isn’t alone.

 

It’s not Len in the restroom with him--not anymore--but it’s a familiar man all the same. Mick Rory is standing less than two feet away, a half-gone cigarette between his teeth and his pants undone at the waist.

 

“What the fuck?” Mick says, blinking as if Barry will suddenly disappear.

 

Barry does his best to ignore him as he finishes his business, looking around to see that though it’s obviously a bathroom in the same location as the Saints and Sinners restroom of the late 2000s, it isn’t the _same_ bathroom.

 

Looking back up at Mick Rory, _teenaged Mick Rory_ , he thinks he knows why.

 

The sounds from the bar are loud and raucous, even from where they are. It occurs to Barry that there’s likely only _one_ way out from where they are without getting his ass kicked--something he can’t reliably avoid without risking his secret identity in whatever year he’s ended up in.

 

“They’re going to notice if both of us leave at the same time,” Barry hedges, motioning back at the single toilet bathroom with a wave of his arm.

 

Mick stares at him, something in his expression that Barry suddenly feels like is going to result in him getting his ass handed to him _in_ the bathroom.

 

“No,” Mick finally says, his voice not nearly as rough as it will be later, “they won’t.”

 

Barry lets himself return the grin Mick gives him, mostly out of abject terror.

 

The fire Mick starts is sort of monstrous, thick hot flames overtaking the bathroom before they’ve even made it two steps outside. The ensuing panic clears the bar quickly enough, only the lone bartender staying to dial 911 with the phone as close to the exit as he can manage.

 

Mick doesn’t separate from him when they get outside, instead pushing him towards a beat-up Mustang.

 

“You some kind of witch,” Mick asks him once Barry gets settled in, not even looking at him.

 

“A witch? What? _No_ ,” Barry answers, more baffled than afraid.

 

“Hmph,” Mick mumbles, “got somewhere to hide out?”

 

“Uh,” Barry says, trying to figure out about when he is, ultimately coming up short, “not really.”

 

“Mm, I've got a place I can take you. Miz Russell won't care if you stay for the night.”

 

_Russell?_

 

“Thanks,” Barry says, and means it.

 

_-x-_

 

It's not until they're almost there that Barry recognizes the neighborhood as the one he'd been in when he first landed in the past. He doesn't say anything, though Mick looks at him oddly when he accidentally gasps a little at the memory.

 

He doesn't expect Mick to drive right up to the same building that Felicia had lived in, a little more fixed up but otherwise the same.

 

But Mick does, parking in an empty spot right on the curb next to the heavily vandalized parking meter.

 

“Just up here,” he tells Barry, smacking his car door with one hand and pulling the handle with the other.

 

“Who lives here?” Barry asks, climbing out the passenger side with ease.

 

Mick raises an eyebrow as if Barry asked the stupidest question possible before he answers, “Miz Russell. She won't ask no questions, but you'll get a good meal and a place to sleep.”

 

Neither one of them says anything else as he leads them to the front door and knocks absurdly loud on the door.

 

A black woman, maybe in her thirties, answers the door a few seconds later, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. The edge of her lips twitches up when she recognizes Mick.

 

“Michael,” she says, and with one word Barry recognizes a voice he hadn't heard in years.

 

She's still young here, her hair still dark and long. There aren't very many wrinkles across her skin, but the eyes are still the same too.

 

He'd only ever met May Russell once, when he was on winter break his freshman year of college. He'd gone with Iris to visit her great aunt, just on the verge of transferring from her retirement community to a nursing home where someone could watch over her better.

 

The woman hadn't waited for Iris to introduce them, just put her hands on either side of him and looked at him before hugging him.

 

_“Just look at you, child, you haven't changed a bit. You found that boy of yours again yet?”_

 

Iris had told him to go with it, that she was beginning a decline into Alzheimer's. But now...

 

Now Barry can't help but wonder if she wasn't as bad as everyone thought. Because he's standing in front of her, who knows how many years before she ever said that.

 

His head hurts, smoke still clings to his clothes, and all he wants is Len.

 

“Have you got a spare room tonight, Miz Russell?” Mick asks, pulling Barry from his head.

 

“Oh, I just gave it away. But if this child don't mind sharin’, I'm sure Leonard won't care. You've got Ricky already sleeping in yours.”

 

Barry freezes as she says it, already knowing that she must mean Len. He's seen the man every time he jolts through time and he doesn't think this will be an exception.

 

“You don't mind sleeping next to another boy, do ya? Cuz if you do, you can find another place to stay,” Mick says, narrowing his eyes as if he's asking a different question than the one Barry hears.

 

“Don't you threaten the poor boy, Michael. Both of you should come inside.”

 

The inside of the apartment is radically different from the last time he'd been inside. It's full of furniture and life and it makes something in Barry’s stomach twist uneasily.

 

“You can call me Miz Russell, sweetheart,” she tells Barry as she shuts and locks her door, “and you can tell me your name if you want but it's all right if you don't wanna.”

 

Barry swallows at that, not sure how he feels about this woman and her kind, soft presence.

 

She doesn't seem to belong with the shadow of Mick Rory beside her.

 

“Why don't we get you a cup of cocoa and something to eat, sugar? You can join Leonard and he’ll let you know where to lay down.”

 

He follows her obediently, only to stop inside the doorway when he sees Len sitting there, hardly older than he'd been that first Halloween. He's sipping from a snowflake printed mug, marshmallows floating obviously on top. He also has a black eye and a faint impression of _someone’s hands_ around his neck.

 

“ _Len,”_ Barry blurts out, finding himself tripping forward to--what, take Len’s hand?

 

“ _You're here?”_ Len asks, and it’s obvious that he hadn't expected Barry to show up by the way the mug smacks the table, brown and white splashing onto the tablecloth.

 

“Who did this to you?” Barry asks, even though he's pretty sure he already knows. A part of him wants to stomp right over to _wherever_ Lewis Snart is and kill him now.

 

“‘Doesn't matter,” Len says, wiping up his spill with a rag May hands him without a word.

 

“Hey, look at me,” Barry says, soft as he can manage, waiting for Len to obey before he continues, “you matter. I said I'd always find you, remember? You think I'd say that if you didn't matter?”

 

“But I'm just--”

 

“You're not _just_ anything, Len, okay? I'm sorry if anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise.”

 

Before either of them can say anything else, May is handing Barry a plain red mug of hot chocolate and a sandwich he hadn't even seen her make. She stops him before he can drink any though, dropping a handful of marshmallows in his mug, “Cocoa isn't cocoa without the mini-marshmallows.”

 

He nearly drops his own mug then, remembering those same words spoken by Leonard Snart decades in the future.

 

_-x-_

 

After he eats and rinses his mug for May, he follows Len into a room that hadn't existed when he met Felicia, like built off from another apartment. It's small, mostly just a bed and a dresser, but there are hints of Len staying there often by the decorations scattered about. It's not totally his, but he thinks that May probably thinks of this as Len’s room and so does Len.

 

“Do you... are you my Barry?” Len asks as they sit next to each other on the twin bed.

 

“I think I always was,” Barry says, and means it.

 

They don't really talk after that. Len settles underneath the covers and Barry sits on the floor with his back against the bed, listening to him breathe.

 

It doesn't surprise him when he feels the skip happening again, but he hopes, rather frenetically, that it's the last. He doesn't want to keep being one of the people Len loses. He squeezes sleeping teen Len’s outstretched hand one last time before he's gone.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 9th, 1987: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship


	10. April 28th, 1979

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... am not entirely sure this is ready to post but I'm doing it anyway. There's a lot of... introspection, I guess? But also some warm fuzzy Len & Barry interaction. _Please_ let me know what you lovelies think.

_//_ [ _Lost inside_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGU_4-5RaxU)

[ _Adorable illusion and I cannot hide_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGU_4-5RaxU) _//_

 

The jump isn't as painful as the one in the car had been but it _is_ painful as he goes from resting against a bed with his hand in Len’s to leaning against a solid wall in the corner of a room with his arm wrenched into the plaster and wood behind him. It hurts especially in his panic to move it, forgetting for a long moment that he can move fast enough to phase his arm right out.

 

When he finally manages, there's a rough circle about a foot wide in the wall where his arm had been. Plaster and dust and splinters of wood coat the floor under him.

 

His arm is bleeding but it's a bearable pain compared to before.

 

“Hey, kid,” a soft voice says and Barry jerks his head up to see Felicia standing there, a little older, skinnier, but Felicia all the same.

 

“Sorry about the wall--” he starts, but she waves him off with a laugh.

 

“It’s okay. The landlord been making comments about expanding this place since the fire next door.”

 

“Is he going to charge you?” Barry asks, hesitant to accept her answer.

 

She looks away when she says no, and that makes something twist in his chest in a bad way.

 

“Felicia--”

 

“Don't,” she says, her voice a little shaken, “please. I suppose you want to see Leo?”

 

He does, but he also doesn't want to leave her like this. It isn't right, what she’s going through.

 

He wants to hunt down all the bastards who hurt her but he doesn't know he'll ever get that chance.

 

“This isn't the first time you've seen me since you were pregnant, is it?” Barry asks instead and she shakes her head and offers him a smile so like Iris’ that it makes his chest hurt.

 

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” he asks.

 

She shakes her head again and offers him a hand up as she replies, “You never said. I’m not sure you knew. I like ‘ta think you and my boy is meant for somethin’ more though.” She smiles at him. “Somethin’ good. Like soulmates, you know?”

 

“‘Like two sides of the same coin,’” Barry quotes, and she smiles a little wider.

 

“Like two sides of the same coin.”

 

-x-

 

Len is tall for his age and skinny, his hair a mess of riotous curls. He’s missing one of his front teeth, but it doesn’t seem to stop his wide brilliant smile.

 

Even though Felicia had told him that _Leo_ was six, seeing him still makes something in him feel disconnected. At fourteen, fifteen--Len had seemed so much in looks like the Leonard Snart that Barry had always known. This one, though, this one seems so _young_ and _innocent_ that Barry feels like he’s intruding.

 

“Do you remember Barry, little lion?” Felicia asks her son. Barry isn’t expecting him too, but Leo nods.

 

“He told me stories, Mama. Are you gonna tell me more stories?” Leo asks, and Barry melts.

 

“Of course,” Barry says.

 

And then he does.

 

-x-

 

By the time Leo falls asleep, it’s late. Barry is tired himself--mentally, physically, emotionally. He feels wrung out and exceptionally sad, drained of everything that keeps him going, and his right hand feels a little like burning.

 

Barry hardly makes it until Len is asleep before he wants to run--wants to run as fast and as far and as long as he can. He’s even ready to do it when Felicia stops him.

 

“You’re just a kid too,” she says, and then she’s pulling him into a tight, hard hug. At first he tries to push her away, but then he relaxes into it. It doesn’t take long before he’s sobbing into her shoulder, shaking with it as if he hasn’t cried in ages.

 

And maybe he hasn’t--not really. He’d spent so long trying to be _everyone’s_ hero that he put himself last and now...

 

And now he’s fallen in love with someone he shouldn’t have. He’s seen the secrets that the Leonard Snart of 2016 keeps locked away, as if pretending they don’t exist will make them so and...

 

It’s like one of those stories, where the protagonist is only shown in moments in their life that are  connected in someway to another life. Five plus one, this is how the story goes.

 

Only this is real, and out of order, and feels more like a Nicholas Sparks novel that ends in heartbreak than a romance to last.

 

He doesn’t know why it hurts so much more now, if it’s because it feels more real now, seeing little Leo and realizing that their lives have been entwined together in some inescapable way for decades and a part of Barry doesn’t care about that anymore if it means he gets another moment with him somehow.

 

He still wants to leave, still wants to go back to February 2016 and live linearly--but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to leave a _moment_ if it means it might be the last one he has with Len.

 

Returning to the right time and place would mean returning to his life and returning to that life would likely mean a decision between two lives--one with Leonard Snart at his side, and one without. He doesn’t know how to balance a life with him and the life he’s already living, if he even can. His job, his relationship with Joe, his friendships with Cisco and Caitlin--these are realities that could be at risk, and Barry doesn’t know how he’s supposed to choose. He doesn’t know if he can.

 

“It’ll be okay, Tigger,” Felicia tells him, rubbing gentle circles on his back, “I promise, baby.”

 

In that moment, stranded almost forty years in the past, Barry misses his mother more than anything in the world. He misses this, a gentle hug and a soft murmuring in his ear. Misses someone caring for him, trying to soothe his hurts.

 

When he finally pulls away, she kisses him softly on the forehead.

 

“You lost your momma, didn’t ya, Tigger?” Felicia asks. Barry can’t make his answer leave his lips, but Felicia nods anyway.

 

“As long as I’m here, honey, I’ll look out for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Barry says, his voice hoarse, but he doesn’t know if she has a chance to hear him before he’s gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 28th, 1979:  
> Heart of Glass - Blondie


	11. August 2nd, 1993

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming. I’m still not 100% happy with it, after a couple rewrites. But, this is about as good as it’s going to get.

# August 2nd, 1993

 _//_ [ _Shall I stay -_ **_Would it be a sin_ ** _,_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4wH4i5pDqE)

[ _But I can't help falling in love with you._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4wH4i5pDqE) _//_

 

Barry is tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. He is wrung out and drained, but he still cannot stop. The jumps, they’re getting easier. No, not easier. More routine.

 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s back in May Russell’s apartment instead of Felicia’s. It isn’t the same place as it had been, or perhaps, more accurately, isn’t the same _time._ Much of the furnishings are the same, but there’s new pieces too.

 

The television screen is the solid blue color of a VHS tape having run out, illuminating two women curled up together on the couch, asleep. It’s the most open and telling picture of May Russell he’s ever seen, the way her face is soft and slack and the way her  body is wrapped around the other woman’s.

 

Barry doesn’t know who the other woman is--she’s sleeping too soundly for that--but he takes a moment, just one, to hope they both get the time together in happiness they deserve.

 

He opens the front door as quietly as he can before he exits and takes as much care to close it as he had to open it.

 

He feels off when he starts his way down the street. There’s a solid weight in his chest that drops down to the pit of his stomach. It’s something like fear and anxiety and sorrow, something heavy that lingers and twists.

 

Barry runs. He doesn’t run for long, but with his speed, he makes it farther than he means.

 

When he stops, he’s somewhere in the Warehouse District and he thinks about running more, aiming himself as far away from Central City as he can manage and running until there’s nowhere else to go.

 

But he doesn’t. He can’t. There’s something in him that’s screaming that he’ll lose his chance if he does and he doesn’t know _what_ chance that is but he’s terrified of losing that.

 

It occurs to him then, as he’s slumped against some anonymous building surrounded by late night shadows and refuse ghosts, that he hasn’t really mourned since he woke up in Star Labs so long ago. He hasn’t let everything inside him out until there was nothing left but hollow.

 

And now, there’s more to let go.

 

He wants to, almost does it right there. But then he hears the stuttering rumble of a vehicle and just _knows_.

 

Knows that Len is there.

 

Knows that this is not a time to mourn because this is not a goodbye but another _chance_.

 

Barry steps forward, casting off the darkness as he softly treads into the yellowed flood light just as an old, rusted van pulls up in front of the building. He can see the moment that Len sees him, the sharp hint of surprised recognition in his eyes across the wheel.

 

Leonard Snart almost jumps out of the van and is at his side quickly, and Barry doesn’t really have time to think about it before he’s pulling Len in close and kissing him.

 

Barry _wants_ this, wants Len. Wants him in so many ways and for far longer than he’s been willing to admit to himself. He wants the quiet domesticity of Leonard Snart picking glass from his skin and the smirk across his face during a pun and the good in him and the feel of his body pressed up against him and all the struggles inbetween.

 

Barry lets himself be led into the warehouse nearby without so much as a token protest, one hand entwined with Len’s gloved fingers so hard and tight that it almost feels like they’re one instead of two.

 

The small office Len leads him to is mostly empty, but there’s an 80s floral printed couch there and it really doesn’t take him long before he’s stripping off his shirt and Len is struggling out of his jumpsuit and they’re pressed tightly together, skin to skin, Barry’s mouth sealed against the other man’s in excitement.

 

“Are you sure?” Len pulls away to ask and Barry feels like his heart is exploding in his chest and Barry _wants_ , wants like he’d only ever wanted Iris.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Barry says, pulling Len back down on top of him, bared skin to bared skin, pressing kisses to his mouth and down his neck.

 

He doesn’t know that it’s the smart choice, but for him he knows it’s the right one. And if this was his one and only chance, he would take it and hold on for as long as he could.

 

It doesn’t take long before fingers fumble over buttons and zippers and they’re both laid bare and sweat-slick and panting, until barely contained excitement falls to ecstasy and release.

 

It doesn’t take long until Barry feels the last shred of his heart deeply root itself in Leonard Snart.

 

-x-

 

Barry redresses quickly once they’re done. He doesn’t want to leave, but the idea of suddenly shifting to another time while still naked is less appealing than another trip in a car would be. Len’s face goes shadowy when he sees Barry redressing, but it takes him a moment to understand it.

 

“I’m not leaving,” Barry says, dropping back down onto the slightly damp couch next to him, “not like that.” Not if he can help it  

 

Len’s face stays hard for longer than Barry expects, but he thinks he understands anyway.

 

He reaches next to him and wraps his fingers around Len’s, the other man’s palm cold to the touch. A soft sound, something like surprise and glee, falls out of Len’s mouth, and the man is suddenly staring at him with something like wonder on his face.

 

“I can feel that,” Len says as he squeezes Barry’s hand, “I can feel your hand.”

 

He doesn’t know that that means, but he knows it means _something._ Something good and important and Barry wants...

 

Barry wants, but he can already feel the pull of time ripping through the moment.

 

“I don’t ever want to leave you,” Barry says and he barely has time to let go of Len’s hand before he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 2nd, 1993: Can’t Help Falling in Love - UB40. 
> 
> Yes, part of the lyrics were bolder on purpose because there was something in this chapter that was always going to happen in this chapter. :)
> 
>  
> 
> We are officially at the halfway point with this one. *throws confetti*
> 
> The second half should, theoretically, come much faster.
> 
> Please let me know what you guys think!


	12. July 25th, 1981

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually mostly done almost two weeks ago but then I got really bad strep, so i didn't get it finished until now. 
> 
> This one isn't very exciting, but we are getting to the last, most packed chapters here. Only five more jumps after this!
> 
> This chapter is for Starflower and Kelsey. Mwah!

# July 25th, 1981

 _//_ [ _They are the words to say_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nY31ZH6hAFI)

[ _The only words I can believe..._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nY31ZH6hAFI) _//_

  


The warehouse is loud and full, the steady beep of machinery and the dull roar of constant voices pounding into his ears. A man stands behind a desk nearby, his mouth fallen open in surprise. It takes Barry a beat, two, to recognize him. He’s years younger, less worn around the edges with his eyes still holding a spark that they hadn’t the last time Barry had seen him.

 

“Mr. Russell, I--” Barry starts, but then he stops.

 

Leonard Russell hadn’t recognized him during that last encounter, not as far as Barry could tell. And well, Barry is _tired._

 

“You’re a good man,” Barry chokes out, and then he’s running away from him, fast enough to phase right through the door before Len and Iris’ grandfather has a chance to say a damn thing.

 

He keeps running, of course he does. Everything is _hard_ and he is so tired of it all. It’s raining when he gets outside, thick dark clouds and booming thunder. He isn’t afraid of it, not anymore. There were far worse things to fear.

 

He stops at a little cemetery, only a quarter of the size it would be by the time his mother would be buried there. He almost regrets it when he sees the kid, the very familiar kid that Barry would know anywhere at this point.

 

He’s standing alone under a huge black umbrella, tilted just enough that the rain is barely out of his face.

 

The headstone in front of him is simple, cheap.

 

**Felicia Russell**

**1955-1981**

 

“Leo...?” Barry asks him, crouching down in front of the boy, his socks squelching with the effort.

 

“ _Don’t call me that,”_ the boy says, his fingers tightening around the umbrella handle until his knuckles turn white.

 

“Len, then. Can I call you Len?”

 

“You knew she was gonna die. You knew and you didn’t save her!”

 

“ _I’m so sorry,_ ” Barry says, and he means it. He doesn’t know how she died--he can guess all he wants--and he doesn’t even know if there was a damn thing he could have done about it even if he had known.

 

Felicia--Felicia was _good_ . She was good and sweet and kind and she reminded Barry of his own mother and it wasn’t _fair_. It wasn’t fair that the good ones died and the bad ones didn’t and that little boy three feet in front of him deserved better. He deserved a man like Joe as a father instead of one like Lewis Snart, and he deserved to grow up with Felicia instead of mourning her alone when he was just what, eight or nine years old?

 

He didn’t deserve to be alone. Barry, for all his thoughts at the time, had never been alone.

 

“Len,” Barry whispered, pulling the boy in close despite his wet clothes and cold body, “I promise you, if I had the choice she would still be with you.”

 

“I wanna go home,” Len says then, but he steps forward the last step to let Barry hug him, “can you take me home?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I can do that. Where do you and your dad live?”

 

“I don’t wanna live with him, I wanna go _home_ ,” Len protests, tiny fists weakly smacking Barry’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry, Len. I know just how you feel.”

 

“How can you know--”

 

“My mom died too,” Barry tells him, hugging the boy tight, “My mom died and I had to go live with someone else and everything was different and hard.”

 

“I’s no’ fair,” Len says into his shoulder, hiccupping around the words, “not fair.”

 

“I know, kid. It’s not.”

 

They stay like that for awhile, Len getting steadily more wet and Barry’s knees starting to hurt. He knows he should help Len get home, but the idea of being the one to put Len back in Lewis Snart’s bubble makes him sick.

 

“Can I go with you? Can I stay with you?” Len asks when he finally releases him. The words feel sharp and hollow when he hears them.

 

Because Barry knows no matter how much they’d both want that, Len can’t come with him.

 

Barry has to leave and Len has to stay. Nothing has changed.

 

“I wish you could. But the, the magic won’t let you.”

 

“You’re leaving me. Just like Mama.”

 

“No, no. I promise you, kiddo. I will always come back for you. I promise, _I will always find you_.”

 

-x-

 

Lewis Snart’s house looks like any average house on the street. The yard is patchy in color, yellowed with more heat and less water. The paint on the house is chipped, but not overly so.

 

It looks like a normal person lives there, someone who doesn’t care much about appearances.

 

The house feels as much of a lie as the life he knows Lewis Snart lives.

 

There’s no car in the driveway and no lights on in the house. Barry doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

 

Len pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, but he hesitates before he steps inside. It isn’t lost on Barry, the way the kid stiffens as if expecting a hit as soon as he crosses the threshold.

 

“He’s not here,” Len says, taking Barry’s hand and pulling him inside.

 

Inside is a mess of fast food containers and empty bottles. There are no signs of mourning, of loss.

 

Just a sign of a man who didn’t care about a damn thing but himself.

 

Len starts picking up by route, quite and precise with each step. It hurts. It hurts a lot, seeing this bright, brilliant boy resigned to picking up after a man like Lewis, a man who would rather hurt him than take care of him.

 

Barry helps him, not saying a word and pretending not to notice the face of surprise that bursts across Len’s face at the action.

 

“I’m so sorry that I can’t take you with me,” Barry repeats again when they’re done, pulling the boy into a tight hug, “I don’t want to leave you here.”

 

“I can handle it,” Len says after they separate. Barry’s heart breaks all over again.

 

 _I know_ , Barry thinks, _I know, but you shouldn’t have to be so strong._ He’s gone before he can say it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July 25th, 1981: The One That You Love - Air Supply


	13. December 26th, 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird chapter. However, it's one of my favorites even though it isn't all that exciting in terms of Coldflash action. <3

# December 26th, 2015

//[ They say that time's supposed to heal ya ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQHsXMglC9A)

[ But I ain't done much healing ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQHsXMglC9A)//

 

He never realized how the particle accelerator explosion had changed the taste of the air before, but it had. It was like a hint of unripe raspberry, a bitter sourness that didn’t really remind of him anything else.

 

But he has time, or at least, the presumption of it, to stop and smell the air now. To breathe it in and taste it on his tongue.

 

Central City is alight with color and sound, holiday decorations washing the streets with reds and greens and golds.

 

He’s almost back. _Almost_.

 

But he knows this isn’t his time, not quite yet.

 

Barely a _month_ away from being able to resume his life, but not quite there.

 

He knows there’s a few more times he needs to visit, a few more things he still needs to do with a past Len. Just a few, he hopes.

 

He wants to be back here soon. Barry doesn’t want to keep leaving Len, in any incarnation.

 

Not anymore.

 

-x-

 

It doesn’t take very long before he makes it to STAR Labs, sneaking into the rooms where his previously damaged suits are packed away. Cisco has probably noticed him by now, because Barry doesn’t doubt there’s some kind of alarms on this part of the building.

Still, Barry digs around until he finds one of the earlier suits--one with a defective comm system--and slips it on. It’s loose in some places--not much, but enough for Barry to feel the thrum of hunger in his stomach and the edge of dizziness in his head. He finds more clothes in a nearby locker, shoving them into a backpack that probably belonged to Cisco if Barry had to guess.

He swings by to snatch a few energy bars before he speeds out again, most going into the bag and the last into his mouth.

-x-

He stops when he finds the little park--the one from that second jump, into Halloween. It’s still there, though the playground is a little rusted and what remains is covered in thick snow.

Barry Allen closes his eyes, and tries to think about where to go to find Len, but nothing comes. Not until he presses his hands together and feels an abnormal warmth in his right hand. ‘ _I can feel that_ ,’ he remembers, his hand wrapped up in Len’s ice cold one.

 

“ _I can feel that_ ,” Barry quotes, focusing on the warmth of his hand and the sound of Len’s voice in his memory, “I can feel that.”

 

Something unspools in him then, unfurls. A heat in his chest that feels like _promise_ and _hope_ and _forever._ He concentrates, and feels it reach out.

 

He opens his eyes, and runs.

 

-x-

 

It’s not really a surprise that he runs right into Len. Not literally, but he can feel the coolness as if it were a real, physical thing. All the apartment buildings look the same, but he follows that _knowing_ up the stairs of one until he reaches a normal, non-descript apartment door.

 

He thinks about knocking, but somehow it’s that hesitance that reminds him that he’s dressed as the Flash. He phases through the door instead, only stopping once he’s through.

 

Leonard Snart really was inside, whatever metaphysical _thing_ it was that connected them through time and space truly had led him here to Len.

 

“B-- _Flash?_ ” Len says, standing up from where he’d been lazing on his couch, surprise quickly masked by indifference.

 

Barry wants to say a thousand things, wants to _do_ a thousand things. He wants to press forward and splay his hands on Len’s bare chest, wants to kiss him, wants to fall into him.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Because he _hadn’t_.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere nicer to go?” Barry asks, even though he knows the answer down to his bones, “Somewhere that isn’t here?”

 

“I’m a fugitive, don’t you remember?”

 

“Snart is,” Barry says, as careful as he can manage, “but that’s just an alias too, isn’t it?”

Len’s eyes go a little cold at that. But, Barry isn’t afraid. Not like he used to be, not anymore.

 

“What do you know? Who have you _told_?” Len snarls a little, and Barry yearns to place a hand on him to calm the fear he knows is there.

 

“I haven’t told anyone. I’m not going to. But Len--Leonard,” Barry says, “there isn’t any point in having a house but never really living.”

 

“How did--”

 

“I’ve got to go,” he interrupts, because that tangled mess of _something_ that screams he’s about to hop through time again is bubbling in his gut, “just think about it.”

 

Barry takes one last look, one last glance at the tattoos that color Len’s bared chest and arms and the way the ink wraps around every muscle and swath of skin. He commits to memory this man--the _here and now_ man--that he wants to come home to.

 

Wants to make a home with.

 

He promises himself to remember, and then speeds out the door before he can make himself stay.

 -x-

The jump takes longer than usual, pulls at him more forceful than usual. It hurts more than it had in the first couple, as if he’s being pulled apart rather than whipped around through time.

 

The scream comes unbidden, and it hurts when it tears through his throat.

 

But then he’s falling, through time instead of space, and for the first time he can see the changes rushing past him. Colors and sounds and smells and other things he cannot make sense of in those few seconds rioting backward.

 

He knows _when_ he’s stopping (March 21, 1981), how long it takes (thirty-seven seconds), and where (an empty lot that would become an apartment in twenty years).

 

He knows but cannot change, and can feel more than he ever had before.

 

Reaching into whatever _thing_ it had been had shown him more than just Len’s location.

 

It showed him something else too.

 

The glimmer of a ship, two timelines colliding and spinning into each other, one life and seventeen knots out of order, forty four years and two weeks.

 

It hurts because he can feel time, a fracture slowly closing.

 

A cosmic accident and twist of fate.

  
_Almost home_ .   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> December 26th, 2015: Hello - Adele

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [i wanna follow (where he goes)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282310) by [MissSugarPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/pseuds/MissSugarPlum)




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